


Slow Science Day

by Wawa_Girl



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Dork, Cecil is a Dork, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Tickle Fights, Tickling, Ticklish Cecil, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, cuteness, loud chewing, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos was still in too much of a good mood to care. He didn't even care that he was about to give the stupidest answer possible. He really shouldn't say it. He shouldn't say...</p><p>"Science!"</p><p>
  <i>Ooops. Too late.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Science Day

_"Picture yourself in an empty parking lot. How long has it been since it was last filled with happy, busy people getting in and out of their vehicles? A few hours? A few weeks? A few_ decades? _Have you even been to this place before? You probably haven't, but then again, how can I be certain when you yourself are not? You feel a touch of Deja vu as you look up at the foggy night sky and sit on a nearby bench, reflecting on how time--"_

_Crunch! CRUNCH!_

The voice on the radio paused, closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and glanced over at the other man sitting beside him at the recording desk, carelessly munching away at the cashews in the small dish on the table, eyes closed as he listened to his favorite towns-person read off the traffic report in his gorgeous voice. He appeared to be so relaxed that he hadn't even noticed the report had stopped. Or perhaps he simply thought that the pause was part of the monologue.

"Umm...uh, C-Carlos?" the reporter finally spoke up, causing the other to turn around.

"Hmm?" the scientist asked as he perked up and looked at his boyfriend, seemingly oblivious to the annoying sound he was creating and the bit of awkward frustration in the other's tone.

Cecil suppressed a smile at the cute way his boyfriend stared at him curiously, wondering if he was needed for anything else (perhaps if Cecil had a science question for him). Still, he hid the grin the best he could and asked as directly as possible. 

"Could--could you maybe...keep--keep it down during the traffic report, just for a few minutes?"

Carlos seemed puzzled as to what Cecil was talking about (he hadn't said a word since the report started), until he glanced down at the dish and then at the snack between his fingers that he was about to toss into his mouth. "You mean this?" he asked, gesturing to both items, as if he was still unsure, because, scientifically speaking, another conclusion was always possible.

"It's just a _bit_ loud. Which I'm used to," Cecil quickly added, trying not to hurt his love's feelings. "You know I love you for your imperfections, dear Carlos, but _that_...that is quite distracting on the radio, especially during traffic, _so..._ " he trailed off, feeling badly again, but also hoping that Carlos would get the message and quiet down his jaw.

Carlos was mortified. Mortified that his chewing was apparently _that obscenely loud_ , loud enough for Cecil to stop a regular news segment to tell him so, and yet he somehow hadn't even noticed.

"Is it really that loud?" Carlos asked in an embarrassed voice as he slowly put the cashew he was holding back into the bowl and folded his hands in his lap, like a child who'd been caught with candy in the middle of class and embarrassed in front of everyone by the teacher.

Cecil resisted his instinct to reply with an honest, " _Yes, extremely so,_ " and instead chose to ignore the question and kindly suggest, "Maybe just hold off until the weather, okay? And you can crunch as much as you wish during dinner tonight at home."

Carlos glared back at him in response, half trying to cover up the embarrassment still on his face and half genuinely irritated at Cecil's continuing remarks on the radio about his obnoxious habit, and his patronizing way of doing so. He swallowed as quietly as he ever had in his life, even more than when he and Cecil were hiding under their bed from the invisible yellow snakes let loose on their street, and replied calmly, his glare still in place.

"Actually, I think I'll..." he stopped to clear his throat, "just take these with me into the break-room, if that's alright. I didn't have much for lunch at the lab, ya know? Make it less, ya know, _distracting_ for you, so you can _concentrate_ better." He put emphasis on the words as a way to show Cecil his annoyance, but this time it seemed to be Cecil who was oblivious to his boyfriend's troubled feelings.

"Oh, alright then, Carlos. Let one of the interns know if you need anything," he replied sweetly, only surprised for a moment as Carlos stood up to leave the recording room, and returned to the microphone in front of him, radio voice back in tune.

_"Sorry about that, Listeners. So, uh, just watch out for un-cooperative raccoons, dismembered and slippery eyeballs, plastic bags disguising themselves as feral dogs, and baby spider wolves out on most main roads today. Other than that, the streets are looking pretty normal and clear. Route 800 has ceased to function until somebody chooses to drive on it. This has been...traffic."_

Outside the recording room door, Carlos could hear the continuing broadcast perfectly clear, possibly clearer than on any radio he'd ever used to listen, through the speakers that played the show throughout the entire station building.

For only a microsecond, or perhaps some length of time similar to but different from a microsecond - time is _so_ weird here, Carlos wished he couldn't hear Cecil still speaking in those soothing tones.

 _'Seriously, Cecil?'_ Carlos thought to himself as he held his head in his hands in shame. He practically said it out loud, and only did not out of fear that others may be listening. While confidence in talking to one's self is the fifteenth thing a scientist is, he wasn't comfortable with the souls of dead interns or the unidentifiable Station Management snooping in on his post-public humiliation thoughts. Not today, anyway.

_"And now a public service announcement from the Night Vale City postal service. The post office would like to remind everyone that any packages that are less than 2200 pounds, and filled with less than 33 pints of any baby blue liquid substance will not be mailed out to your intended destination, and instead will be sent back to the return address for correction. 'This has happened too many times,' one of the postal workers said. 'And it's really not that hard to buy some 100 lb. weights and bottles of blue liquid at your local convenient store before mailing your package. Many citizens have children and pets whose blood is baby blue. Take a few pints from them, if you need to. Please. Make a note not to forget this, and we'll all get our mail much quicker and more efficiently,' he concluded._

_Now back to our earlier story about the library and its reconstruction of both the building and its faculty."_

It was a slow news day.

It was the reason Carlos was at the studio in the first place. With only a few updates on the library and Pamela Winchell's daily press conferences, and a handful of other regular broadcast segments to report on, Cecil had asked Carlos that morning over breakfast if he would like to co-host a portion of the show with him and talk a bit about science during the spare time. 

Carlos happily agreed, as he loved coming to the studio to admire Cecil's work, as well as talking about his passion for studying science, even if he was self-conscious about speaking in front of a live audience. Public speaking was _Cecil's_ specialty, not his. But Cecil reassured him that all the other times Carlos had come on the radio to talk about the House That Does Not Exist everyone found it imperfectly informative and enjoyable, and that he had nothing to be nervous about (well, besides Station Management, of course, but then he added that Carlos was braver than the average intern, so he shouldn't worry about being swallowed alive).

Carlos had to admit, if only to himself, that Cecil holding his hand underneath the desk, and the way he smiled at him adoringly, helped ease his nerves a great deal as he filled approximately five minutes of radio time blabbering on about said house without existence and numerous other lab experiments he and his team had in progress. It all seemed to go well - it was honestly really fun - and Cecil then went on to begin the day's traffic report as Carlos reclined back and looked forward to spending the rest of the broadcast listening to his boyfriend's show up close and personal until it was time to pack up and go home together.

 _'If only I hadn't gotten hungry during that time,'_ he cursed to himself, now sitting on the sofa out in the break-room, pounding his forehead with his fists multiple times.

_"Regardless of these new and potentially dangerous modifications to the children's section of the library, the Friday evening showing of 'The Little Mermaid' will still be going on, as long as the children bring appropriate weapons to protect themselves against Librarians and the harmful sea creatures in the film._

_And now a message from the Greater Night Vale Medical Community. Have you cleaned your eyeballs yet this month? We know that this is not a pleasant procedure, but failing to remove and rinse out your eyeballs at least once every 30 days is the leading cause of vision problems in America. As a reminder, here is a list of things you'll need to do..."_

Carlos let out a huff and got up to dump the rest of the cashews into a nearby trash can. It wasn't really a lie that he'd had a light lunch at the lab that morning. Rochelle had once again eaten all the snacks everybody brought, the only food left for them being the previous week's leftover scraps from the lab fridge. And since Carlos had promised Cecil he would come on the show that afternoon, he wasn't there for the team's second order of food after Rochelle left to investigate the Sand Wastes.

Nevertheless, he didn't feel much in the mood for crunchy, salty goods anymore after that humiliating incident. He dumped the remains and crumbs into the can and walked to the bathroom, the sound of the can gurgling and belching filling his ears, along with the broadcast he was no longer paying attention to.

He knew he was overreacting. And that it wasn't entirely fair to be this annoyed at Cecil simply for pointing out that Carlos' munching was disrupting the show. And scientifically speaking, it was irrational to be upset just because of Cecil's professionalism.

But for the love of science, he couldn't help himself!

He had already been uncomfortable and anxious about speaking on the radio, and for good reason. He wasn't used to it. He was used to studying alone and periodically communicating his thoughts and findings to his team. He wasn't aware when he was audibly doing something that may agitate hundreds of listeners (if there even were that many people in Night Vale). 

And Cecil _knew_ these insecurities of his very well. Right when Carlos had thought he'd done a decent job and was going to have a peaceful rest of the day, Cecil just _had_ to correct his childish habit of not minding how loudly he was chewing.

For all his listeners knew, that could have been Khoshekh's growls echoing from the men's bathroom, or a botched old microphone making weird...crunching sounds. Did he really _have_ to point out that _that's_ how his boyfriend sounded when he ate? And ask him to stop in such a condescending manner in front of everyone? After he'd just made himself appear intelligent minutes before?

He felt like such a _dork. Darn it, Cecil._

Speaking of Khoshekh, there he was. Floating above the sink on the far left in the restroom, wearing a patch over his right eye and a bandage wrap around his left hind leg, five similar in appearance kittens floating a few feet above him. Carlos waved awkwardly at the creatures, temporarily forgetting his allergies, before letting out a quick sneeze. He sighed and took a few tissues out of his lab coat pocket to stifle the inevitable future sneezes, and went to wash his hands four sinks away from the floating felines. Although the cat fur attack didn't do wonders for his current mood, or annoyance with their owner, he couldn't help but crack a smile at the way the little ones began to purr a little louder at the sound of Cecil mentioning them on the air.

_"And even though it is a shame that we weren't able to keep the kittens for ourselves, it is at least nice that they will always be together floating above their dad, proudly sticking together as a family after the cruel attacks from the evil corporation that sought to take over our town, our radio studio, your humble radio host, and our loved ones - including our loving pets._

_Anyway...the kittens are still unable to be photographed, but if anyone wishes to come down to the station and visit them...please call ahead. They don't do particularly well with human strangers. They sure are adorable though, as they continue to grow bigger and stronger every day, yet still retain that 'cute kitten' image. Ahh, such sweethearts."_

Carlos looked up at the mirror above the sink, about to inspect his teeth for anything stuck inside them, only to see that the entire thing was completely covered by a bed sheet.

Carlos closed his eyes and shook his head with a laugh at his own forgetfulness that the mirrors were all covered. Of course they were. Cecil spent almost as much time at the station as he did in his own home ( _their home,_ Carlos corrected his thoughts happily). Their own bathroom mirror was never uncovered, so why would Cecil risk open mirrors at his place of work?

He carefully inspected his surroundings to make sure nobody would see his sneaky act, and lifted the sheet corner, _just for a second,_ to aid him in picking any possible pieces of cashews out of his teeth. There were two pieces stuck in the back, which possibly contributed to his chewing being even louder than usual. He rinsed the culprits down the drain and put the sheet back in place to completely cover the glassy object as neatly as possible. He looked over at Khoshekh and made a "Shh!" gesture to him, which earned him a low meow in response. Carlos wasn't sure the degree to which Cecil and his beloved cat could communicate, but he was fairly certain that Cecil wouldn't be happy about the mirror being uncovered for unnecessary reasons.

That was why Carlos had his own personal mirror in a drawer at the lab. He found himself smiling again at the memory of receiving the hand-carved, hand-painted reflector as a six-month anniversary present ( _'I know it's hard for you to not be able to use a mirror in our home, and it isn't fair that you can't check your perfect hair every morning, so from now on you can use this! I made it myself...you like?'_ ), as he dried his hands on his pants and made a mental note to later take a sample of the green sludge that was coming out of the sink.

_"Drowning. Gasping for air. No escape. Being buried alive under the sidewalk. Oh god, oh my, where are your loved ones? Where is all of the air going? Where is all of the color going? What is that smell? What is happening to you? Breathe and think. Breathe. Think. Breathe and do not think. Stop breathing. Stop thinking. Now think. Think about nothing. Think about nothing and wait. And wait. And...wait._

_Dairy Queen. Try our new frozen yogurt...before it is too late. This has been a word from our sponsors."_

The man in the white lab coat leaned against the door frame of the recording booth's emergency back exit, where he'd oddly found himself after exiting the restroom, and watched the man he loved diligently read off whatever news there was to give, even the "news" that may not have seemed important to anybody else. Carlos stared and listened adoringly, much like how Cecil had done for him while he was going on and on about anything that could be considered "science," and much like how he planned to do for the rest of the broadcast seated beside Cecil. The annoyance from earlier was leaving him by the second, letting the comforting voice speaking poetic words into the microphone wash over him.

_"The stonework highly reminiscent of the homes of our parents and grandparents before us. The garden giving a unique smell of chocolate and rosemary. The rooms freshly painted, carpeted, and decorated to say that this is more than simply a high school - it's a place to laugh, cry, and make memories to last...at least three years or so. A simple walk inside and out of the building, and citizens are claiming to feel almost reborn. How glorious the design, how beautifully quaint the atmosphere, and how friendly and inviting the surroundings. I'll tell you, Listeners, as much as I loved my experiences at Night Vale High when I was just a young teen, a part of me wishes I could be a student again in the new, lovely sounding school. The part of me that is actually allowed to recall my past, that is."_

Carlos had been entirely too sensitive. He finally admitted that to himself as he let his mind drift back into his own thoughts, the voice in the room now the most lovely background noise. 

This "humiliating incident" wasn't anything like when he and Cecil had only been on three dates and Cecil had instinctively called out Carlos' "penchant for sometimes chewing a little more loudly than is preferred" on the radio as nonchalantly as saying it was sunny outside. That observation had no real purpose, and was a far more embarrassing and silly thing to do. And yet, as surprised as Carlos remembered being when he first heard it said on live radio, he couldn't remember being nearly as annoyed at that unnecessary mention than he was at today's. Even though today it was entirely necessary if it was truly noisy enough to be distracting the radio host's work.

Carlos was sure that if he was ever able to get his hands on the forbidden radio show archives and hear back the day's traffic report, he'd realize just how painfully loud and annoying his snacking cacophony truly was, and be shouting at his own past self to _shut the glow cloud up!_

He wasn't as angry at Cecil as he was angry with himself, for letting everyone hear his chewing and, condemnation of it, live this time. But that really wasn't Cecil's fault.

They both knew that, since the throat spiders and vocal chord replacement, the scientist's chewing manners had regressed back to...well, as bad as they were before he'd ever entered a relationship. And yet Cecil never made a peep about it when they ate together, which was most mornings and evenings they were lucky enough not to be working. He was almost always patient and polite about the habit, only ever bringing it up in jest rather than genuine reproach. The one time he did so in over two years was because he professionally _had to_ , and Carlos was going to make a stink about it?

Cecil had even tried to say it as delicately as possible, making a point of throwing in an "I love your imperfections." Carlos almost couldn't believe he'd been so silly. 

Cecil wasn't always the most mature person, most commonly when it concerned his brother-in-law, or any questioning of his beloved hometown's education and legal systems, but this time it was all on Carlos. And he called himself a _scientist._

_"- Wednesday all citizens are not permitted to leave their homes, except for emergencies. And no, fires, burglaries, volcanic eruptions from your kitchen sink, and lack of food or water do not count as emergencies. Emergencies such as accidentally consuming wheat or wheat by-products, or using unauthorized writing utensils, and needing to turn yourself in to the City Council are genuine exceptions to walk the streets this coming Wednesday. Otherwise, please do NOT leave your house._

_\- Thursday is...oooh...ummm...yuck. N--Nevermind. You...you can all look that up for yourselves on the bulletin boards at the entrance of the Ralph's. I'm...I'm terribly sorry, Listeners, but I don't feel quite comfortable reading that specific event on the air._

_\- Friday is a day of kindness and giving. In secret, that is. That's right, it's our bi-annual secret charity, Listeners. Secretly choose a local charity that you feel worthy of your time and attention, and imagine giving them your money or goods. Imagine these donations. Do NOT actually donate to these charities. Do NOT tell anyone what charities you are secretly imagining participating in. Do NOT give anything to a charity in reality. Only donations inside of your own imaginative mind are acceptable. DO NOT actually donate._

_\- Saturday may be facing cancellation, but we're still waiting on that. It may be a useful day after all, so don't cross it off your own personal calendars just yet._

_This has been the community calendar."_

The scientist noticed Cecil check his wrist watch for the time, a gesture that almost always filled Carlos with a special warmth - and this one wasn't related to any viruses going around the lab, and knew that the weather would be coming soon. It had to. There were only so many minor reports that even Cecil could use to fill up the time. 

Carlos considered quietly sitting back down next to Cecil, smiling, and waiting for the weather to play before apologizing. Apologize for leaving in such an immature manner, and overall behaving so childishly. He was pretty sure Cecil hadn't even noticed Carlos' annoyance, and was too focused on the show to read his boyfriend's mind, but an apology still only felt right. Carlos still felt new to many relationship courtesies.

That was, until Carlos took notice of the current position his boyfriend was sitting in. He was seated comfortably in a swivel chair, well-postured, shoes planted on the ground, head bowed into the microphone, reading from the papers on the table, headphones firmly in place over his ears, drowning out approaching footsteps.

He also recollected his thought from just a moment earlier: _'...and was probably too focused on the show to read his boyfriend's mind...'_

Perhaps Carlos still had a few immature thoughts left before sundown. They could simply be channeled into something cute and playful instead of bitter.

It would be by far the _most_ immature and stupid thing he'd done since moving there (well, non-research-related, of course - he had created a danger meter, after all), but he couldn't care less. The urge was becoming too strong, a devilish smirk forming on his face, and it was highly unlikely he would be in the studio again for a while, let alone with this beautiful opportunity.

His sudden over-whelming affection for the man in the seat in front of him wasn't helping, and it wasn't as though Cecil had many boundaries about distracting or embarrassing someone on the radio. Scientifically speaking, a little playful revenge shouldn't hurt him (by most outward appearances).

_"Pick up your bird nest the next day, look inside of it, and write down what you see. Remember to record these observations in your dream journal and not in your science journal. Because if you have ever held a bird's nest in your hands, you must have been dreaming. Any real bird's nest will melt your skin mere moments after touching it. Do you even know what birds use to create those things? Well, neither do we, but obviously something poisonous. Stick to stuffed toy birds and their nests, alright? We don't need more blood and burning skin of young kids around the playgrounds._

_This has been our Children's Fun Fact Science Corner."_

Yep. That settles it. He was definitely getting it for that. No doubt about it.

Intern Maureen was no where in sight (Carlos was beginning to suspect that she didn't care for him and Cecil all that much, and was making an active effort to avoid them both as much as possible while still gaining college credit for the internship). Coffee mug was empty. No cigarette was lit. Cell phone didn't appear to have sprouted any more appendages. The room was sound proof, and the doors locked.

He quietly took a few steps forward, waiting for Cecil to finally introduce the weather before he could...

_"Well, Listeners, there don't seem to be any more reports coming in about the library, but let's all hope and pray in our bloodstone circles that everyone in there stays_ safe _and_ alert. 

_I'm not sure exactly where Carlos has been through most of the show. I'm sure his company would've greatly helped fill the time. I'll send him a quick text message and see where he's gone off to. But in the meantime, I suppose I must now take you all to the weath--GAH!!!"_

Cecil shrieked the instant he felt rapidly moving fingers on both his sides. In an attempt to shake them off, he fell from his chair and onto the floor with a thud, bringing the chair down with him.

_"Gahaha--whahaha--Carlohohohohos?! Whahahahay?! Hahaha, stahahahahap ihihit! Haha! Stop it! Go to the weaheheheheh--weather!!"_

The cue for the weather must have been voice-activated, for as soon as Cecil was able to get the word out, a soft, low-fidelity guitar tune began to play throughout the room, although it was difficult to hear over Cecil's hysterical laughing, shrieking, and begging.

It had been a long time since Carlos was on this end of a tickle fight with Cecil.

This was mainly due to the fact that Carlos had several disadvantages against him when it came to this particular boyfriend activity, such as being shorter, physically weaker, and _far more_ ticklish. He was also rarely able to get the surprise jump on Cecil first because of Cecil's _totally unfair_ ability to read minds when he chose to open his third eye, which was a common occurrence when he was relaxing at home. The only time Cecil usually wouldn't peer into nearby people's thoughts was when he was too focused on something else to concentrate.

And Cecil was never more focused than during his radio show.

"Carlos! Plehehease, stahahahap!" Cecil shouted out as he kicked and squirmed underneath his extremely cruel boyfriend. Carlos just smiled wider and replied with a simple "Not yet" as he lifted his hands underneath Cecil's shirt and ran his fingers up and down Cecil's ribs and sides, causing the esteemed reporter to laugh even harder and attempt to twist away more desperately, but Carlos did his best to hold him tight.

Oh yes, Carlos had missed this oh so very much. And he intended to savor every weird microsecond of it.

The most amazing thing about when Cecil was tickled was that, even though he wasn't _nearly_ as sensitive to it as Carlos, it caused the tattoos that covered most of his skin to change color, light up, and skitter about, almost entirely in sync to Cecil's movement and laughter. Almost as if they were able to feel the silly, torturous sensations themselves, and were reacting to the attack just as much as the man whose body they belonged to.

For all Carlos knew, they quite possibly could. He never asked Cecil. The question "are your tattoos ticklish?" never felt like appropriate pillow talk, but it would explain why any time Carlos touched one of the smaller patches of ink they squirmed away instantly. The very idea was scientifically _fascinating_ , and he'd love to discover somehow if that was indeed the case, and if the likely-sentient tattoos had their very own sense of touch.

But Carlos was a scientist of ethics. He didn't feel comfortable with torturing a living being, especially someone innocent who he loved, simply for a curious experiment.

He would only do that for fun! _Like now_ , he thought to himself gleefully, feeling like a little kid again for the second time that day. Only this time not like a kid who'd been scolded and embarrassed in front of all their peers at school, but like a victorious child who'd just gotten payback on their stupid older sibling for tickle torturing them earlier that day, ruining their science fair project in the process.

"NO! Stohohohohop! Carlohohos! NO, NOT THERE! Nohohohot like thahahahat! Dohohohon't do thiiis anymohohohohoore! Somebody HELP MEHEHEHE! Maureeheheheen! Anybohahahady maahahahake him stop!"

It was quite a sight seeing Cecil like this. Cecil Palmer, the Voice of Night Vale, pinned underneath his much smaller boyfriend, helplessly shouting to be rescued by anyone that might see or hear them. The voice that so confidently spoke in deep, rich tones, and was only minutes earlier delivering serious news, using such elegant and ominous words, was now screeching and pleading, laughing his head off. His tattoos were moving in a rapid, snake-like manner, practically following Carlos' hands as they scratched at every inch of Cecil's torso, and glowing various bright colors like a Christmas display.

Cecil's eyes, when he finally opened them, were brightening up, too, and his laughter had changed to a higher-pitched giggling. A giggle that echoed and bounced off the walls of the small room, and Carlos would vow that the sight and sound of Cecil right at that very moment was the most adorable thing he would ever see or hear in his entire scientific career, and he had studied newborn meerkats up close.

Carlos slowed his hand movements for a bit, as did the tattoos slow their skittering, to move to Cecil's belly. Cecil was able to calm down a few degrees, still laughing and gasping as his eyes began to water.

"Carlos, plehehehease, no mohahaore! I cahahahahaha..." Carlos was very curious what exactly Cecil meant to say that he "can't" do, before the tickling became too much again when Carlos squeezed the blinking eye tattoos on his hip bones.

Carlos was pretty sure that Cecil's endurance of almost any physical torture was pretty impressively strong, and his breathing seemed to still be intact.

"Don't be so dramatic," he mocked as he rubbed his knuckles on the images spiraling up and down his love's sides that were brightly glowing a lime green.

He was really loving this fun moment of innocent power he could have over Cecil. It was so rare that Carlos wasn't the victim of merciless tickling, though he was beginning to understand why Cecil had so much fun torturing him at home despite his pleadings.

The few times he had tickled Cecil it was just enough to learn his worst spots (basically wherever his tattoos were), and his common mannerisms during the experience. The most he got was a quick squeal and his tattoos flashing for about 30 seconds off and on like a car alarm. Always far too short-lived to give the same effect as this. It was so tempting to never let this moment end until they were both removed from the setting by force.

Still, according to the studio wall clock (which was always incorrect, of course) it had been at least two solid minutes of non-stop tickling for Cecil, which was probably more than enough this time around, and Carlos wasn't sure the duration of the day's weather.

He _was_ pretty sure, however, that Station Management, if they were watching or listening through their doors, would be much less tolerant and forgiving towards the couple goofing off than their Sheriff's Secret Police officers or the faceless old woman who secretly lived in their home (although she had shouted at them from under the bed to "Knock it off!" once or twice, much to Carlos' relief at the time).

"Carhahaahahaha...plehehehease...I...hihihihihi..." Cecil's shrieks of ticklish agony and desperate shouts of "please!" had become too repetitive to ignore, and the scientist seemed to have given the poor host's two pairs of lungs quite a workout.

With a laugh of his own and a few more scratches and pinches at the ribs that were still glowing pink through Cecil's dress shirt, Carlos withdrew his hands. Cecil's laughter finally ceased as he let his head fall back to the floor, out of breath as if he'd just been running for his life, his eyes fading back into their usual shade of purple. Carlos lamented that a belly raspberry, and a study of Cecil's vocal and skin reactions to that, would have to wait until next chance.

The weather was easier to hear now, the only other sound in the room being Cecil's heavy panting and gasping for air. It didn't seem like the song was coming to an end quite yet, for which Carlos was glad. Cecil would need a bit more time to compose himself after _that_.

The victim eventually sat up, fixed his shirt and tie, and replaced his glasses that had fallen off and were laying on the carpet beside his headphones. Carlos was giggling almost madly. Giggling at the fact that he had actually, successfully gotten away with tickling the void out of his boyfriend while he was doing his radio show, at how _thrilling_ and _precious_ it was, and at the look of annoyance mixed with confusion and utter _betrayal_ in Cecil's eyes as he glared right back at his attacker.

" _What_ was that about?!" Cecil finally asked, still with a rasp in his voice that he cleared with a cough and a few deep breaths. Carlos kept his smile firmly in place, knowing that Cecil wasn't truly furious at him, even if that was a very unfair, unexpected 120 seconds of torture. But he did seem genuinely confused on what he'd done to deserve such a thing, and frustrated at the persistence of his boyfriend's actions to say the least.

Carlos was still in too much of a good mood to care. He didn't even care that he was about to give the stupidest answer possible. He really shouldn't say it. He shouldn't say...

"Science!"

_Ooops. Too late._

Carlos couldn't entirely blame Cecil for the even harder glare he took on after that answer. It may have fit the mood, and not have been a _100% lie_ (he was going to get to the bottom of that tattoo phenomenon one day), but Carlos knew how aggravating it was whenever Cecil pretended his reasons for tickling Carlos were "for science!" which had become his favorite excuse.

The longer it took for Carlos to come up with a better answer, the easier it was to see the small smile creeping onto Cecil's face like an orphaned spider.

"I was mad that you called out my loud chewing on the radio again," Carlos answered in a completely serious tone. At least he tried to make it sound serious, but he was having an extremely difficult time not falling into another laughing fit at this absurd turn of events, and at Cecil's even more confused features. 

It also wasn't a _complete_ lie.

Carlos knew that ordinarily, if he had told Cecil that he found something that was said about him on the radio embarrassing, Cecil would be quick to respond with an, "Oh, sweet Carlos, I'm so sorry. You know I never mean to hurt you." But this time, after such a ruthless attack, Cecil seemed a bit less sympathetic.

Understandable.

"So..." Cecil began slowly, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "Because I asked you to keep quiet while you ate so I could deliver an important traffic report in peace, you find the need to get some sort of twisted, scientific revenge while I'm working in the form of... _that?_ " he spat out.

"Yes, well, no...sort of. Not quite. I mean..." Carlos continued to play along to Cecil's confusion regarding his strange actions. "Then I was listening to your show, and really enjoying it, and I realized how silly and immature I was being..."

" _Was being?_ " Cecil asked incredulously, but now smiling much bigger.

"I wanted to come back and apologize," Carlos explained, acting as if he hadn't heard Cecil's last words.

"Is this how scientists apologize now?" Cecil asked, his annoyance only approximately 5.3% genuine now, no longer hiding his smile. "What happened to the freshly brewed coffee in the beakers on the bedside table?"

Carlos shrugged. "This was a cuter way. And besides, I _finally_ got you this time. I _never_ get to be on that side of it," he whined like a small child.

"There is a reason for that, ya know," Cecil reminded him, and at that statement Carlos' smile vanished as he feared the worst.

"It's not dangerous for you, is it?" he asked his love with a genuine concern as he took his hand. "Or," he started with a whisper, "I didn't, um, violate any type of Night Vale law by doing that during the show, did I? Oh, I didn't even consider that. I know Station Management doesn't _love_ me being here in the studio with you in the first place, but for some reason I couldn't resist, and I waited until the weather to be safe. I'm sorry--"

As much as Cecil would love to let his boyfriend believe that he'd done something disastrous to add to the guilt, he wouldn't be dishonest with him like that. He shook his head and laughed, letting out a cough again, and cut off the rambling man sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him. "No, silly. Nothing hazardous or illegal as far as I've been informed. And I would likely be one of the first informed. I meant that you never get the chance because you're about 700 hundred times more ticklish. Or did you forget that, Mr. Smart Man?" Cecil said with a new smirk.

After Carlos breathed a sigh of relief at Cecil's clarification, he blushed and looked down at his lap sheepishly. "748.713 times more, actually," he answered. "I, uh, ran some calculations," he confessed even more abashed.

Rather than Cecil asking the obvious " _how?_ " he continued with his vengeful thoughts. "So what made you think that you could get away with this now and not expect payback later?"

"Umm...because the faceless old woman won't stand for it more than twice a month without selling your collectible bowls on eBay?" he asked hopefully. When Cecil's cocky expression didn't change Carlos admitted, "I honestly didn't think it all the way through."

"How unusual. I thought thinking was part of being a scientist," Cecil parroted the awkward remark from their first date with a wink.

"It was certainly worth it for both scientific and personal reasons," Carlos joked as he grabbed for Cecil's sides again, not intending to actually tickle him this time, but just to tease and scare Cecil into shutting up. The radio host squeaked in fear and twisted away before grabbing the other's wrists.

They both laughed, and then sat in silence for a few moments, as the weather was in its last 30 seconds. Cecil smiled at the man he was lucky enough to call his boyfriend (on most days), and whispered, "I have to get back to the show." Carlos nodded, offered Cecil his hand to help him up, pulled the chair and headphones back into their proper place, and made his way to the couch at the right side of the room to sit and wait while Cecil closed out the show.

But not before giving Cecil a quick kiss to the back of his head and squeeze of his sides. Cecil let out a small shriek and turned to glare at him again, but Carlos just gave an innocent shrug as he seated himself.

 _"Ahem...uh...I'm,"_ Cecil coughed and wheezed away from the microphone, still slightly out of breath from the last mini-attack, before continuing. _"Excuse me. I'm_ terribly _sorry about that small disturbance right before the weather, Listeners. You don't need all the details, but let's just say that there was a small intrusion and attack on my senses from a certain cute, but_ very immature _scientist. It seems that some people, even those very near and dear to us, those we love and trust, and share our homes and lives with, do not understand the importance of boundaries and respect for personal space, especially during one's work hours. Those who cannot handle a simple criticism of their eating manners, and feel the childish need to interfere with serious community radio business out of a primal sense of revenge. But fear not, Listeners. I know that in due time these very sneaky and treacherous individuals will learn their lesson, and won't be a problem in the future."_

Despite Cecil's over-dramatization of Carlos' prank as if it was another mega-corporation takeover, Carlos knew the Voice of the town was only playing it up for the sake of good radio, and to prepare Carlos for the torturous revenge that was surely awaiting him.

And despite the deeply buried fear in the pit of his stomach, Carlos chose not to care. It was hilarious, adorable, and nothing but continuing reminders of what he'd done and how great this "slow news day" turned out to be. And it was far better than Cecil going on about how perfect Carlos was. He was finally able to sit in the same room as Cecil and listen to the rest of the show just as he intended all along.

Cecil's eyes never once left Carlos' as he concluded the show, giving the other man constant smirks, winks, and a look that screamed "you're mine when we get home." Carlos only smiled and rolled his eyes.

Nah, he wasn't scared. More time for the two of them spend together, and he honestly did deserve it.

Unless by "learn their lesson" Cecil actually meant recording Carlos' snorts and squeals while he was tickled, as Cecil was _never_ without his microphone, and playing it on the radio for all his audience to hear. _Then_ he was in big trouble.

_"Stay tuned next for your biggest fears transforming into your greatest excitements. And as always, good night, Night Vale. Good Night."_

After Cecil turned off the microphone and "ON AIR" sign, Carlos got up from the comfort of the sofa and went to the desk to gather the science notes he'd brought with him, as Cecil did the same with his broadcast notes. The two glanced at one another and smiled shyly as they both straightened up side-by side, much like when they did the dishes or organized their bloodstones at home, before Cecil cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Hey, I am sorry for embarrassing you about your chewing on the radio again. I didn't think I had a choice but to say something this time, with the close proximity and new amplified microphone and all, but I--"

"Cecil, it's _fine,_ " the scientist cut him off. "Don't worry about it. I overreacted. You had every right to let me know. Just, uh, maybe put your hand over the mic next time you decide to correct me in front of all of our friends," he mumbled the last sentence under his breath.

"Huh? What was that, sweetie?" Cecil turned and asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Nothing," he quickly replied in an overly-cheerful tone with a phony smile, before looking down at his stack of papers and putting on a genuine one. "I love you."

Carlos had gotten much better about verbally expressing the "I love you" sentiment to his boyfriend, but there were still moments where he couldn't say it without feeling like a child on stage of a full auditorium at a spelling bee. This was close to one of those times.

There was rarely a time Carlos said it when Cecil didn't blush furiously and his heart didn't do several, high-level gymnastics (literally - he needed to get that checked out). This was exactly one of those times.

Cecil turned to face him, smiled gently, took both hands into his own, and replied, "I love you, too."

The couple shared a soft kiss for about five seconds before breaking apart and smiling at each other goofily.

"But you're still in serious trouble with a certain someone in our room tonight," Cecil said, putting his vengeful look back on, an expression he'd perfected in such a short amount of time, and Carlos knew he didn't mean the faceless old woman. The fear was becoming too real.

"Ya know what? I think I've been away from the lab a little too long today. I should check on the rest of the team, see how our experiments on the, ummm...the, uh...house hippos! See how those are going, and make sure Rochelle didn't eat the rest of our food supply. It'll probably take all night. I'll be back home late. Sorry, Ceec. Love you!" Carlos said the words in a rush, eyes darting back and forth, and turned to sprint out the door, but Cecil already had a firm grip on his wrist and yanked the other man back in front of him.

"You're _not_ using a science excuse to get out of this one, Mister," he informed, only partially sympathetic of the fearful, defeated look on the love of his life's face.

Carlos sighed and looked down at the design on the wrists of the hands that were holding his, brushing his thumb over the band of the watch he had given Cecil so early into their relationship.

"Okay, _fine,_ " Carlos gave in with a nervous laugh, as they laced their fingers together and began to head out the door of the recording booth. "But can I at least ask you a scientific question? One that only _you_ would likely be able to answer? A _completely scientific question_ , I promise," he asked as he held up one hand in a vow of honesty.

"Sure, of course," Cecil answered with an inquisitive tone, curious of what scientific mystery he would be able to solve better than his scientist, hero boyfriend.

"Can your tattoos feel ticklish?"

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on an idea by tumblr user "the-elegant-walrus." ^_^
> 
> She said "Imagine Carlos going into the recording booth while Cecil is recording and tickling Cecil and you hear fall off the chair with a thud, then, from the laughter, you hear Cecil going “Stop it! Go to the weather!!! [The weather plays]” and he’s still out of breath from laughing so much after help me."
> 
> She was awesome for coming up with such an adorable idea, for encouraging me to try writing it myself, and for writing her own version that's on her blog (which I haven't read yet, but I can't wait to!).
> 
> I worked really hard on this, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but it is the first fanfiction I've published in over two years, and the very first I've ever completed for WTNV. So if you enjoyed it, or have any kind feedback, please let me know down below, and you will be granted a never-expiring "Get Out of the Dog Park Free Card." ;)
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving (to all American readers), and happy upcoming holidays to all!~


End file.
